Of Death and Dreams and Djinn
by janya.wrote.nightrose
Summary: Whether it is meant to be or forced, it is the way I want it. Is it so wrong to just this once get what I want? Maybe it is- but I'm not sure I have a choice. Bartimaeus/Ptolemy. Please, please, please REVIEW!
1. Demon Called

Demon Called

**please, please, please review. please.**

_Demon. _

Vile nightmare. Get thee behind me, Satan. Troubleth not my house, monster. Away from my children.

For two thousand years, I've heard this.

Yeah, I try to keep my spirits up. I try to make a joke of it, really I do, but after a few millennia of being regarded as a monster, even someone as naturally chipper and intelligent as myself.

_Come, demon_

The summons tugs at my essence. I scream.

I am rent from my home, from my self, from my sisters and brothers that are that self. I am torn from the Other Place, the only place.

And sent screaming into the human world of pain.

Here I could suffer, here I knew fear and the slow dull ache and the crashing possibility… I could die any minute.

_You are summoned_

I hate it. I try my best not to think too hard about what's happening because I can't afford the strong emotion, because then I will attack and there will be pain.

I hate that I am forced. I want my will. I want to choose. I hate being forced.

Slavery.

Whether or not Faquarl likes the word, it's true. I am a slave, bound forever to the command of any who knows my name.

_Bartimaeus, I summon you_

It's amazing.

They can make me hate my own name. They can make me hate myself, because that very nature is one they can control.

I don't know what will come next, not for certain, but I can predict it- a magician, another loathsome interchangeable man monster will command me, torment me, and finally free me.

Just in time for another summons.

_Come, Bartimaeus_

It never ends. There is no liberation, except in death. And even that- I don't believe there is anything after. Just snuffed out like a candle, that's where demons go.

Demons, hate that word. God. But it's what I am. What they call me defines me.

In the Other Place, I am nothing, or rather everything. It doesn't much matter. But they define me, label with me, with their cruel names, force me to be, and exist, and think, and feel.

When all I want to do is exist.

_Demon out of darkness_

It isn't dark in the Other Place. It's light, and movement, and freedom, and wonder. I don't want to suffer. I want to live, to simply be with no constraints and no commands. Oh, I want to go home.

And I'm not even gone yet.

_I define you_

I am rent from my brethren, torn from the place where we cling together as one entity, ripped into a single being.

I miss them.

We are one.

Only I am not one of us anymore, I am torn away. I sense their pity and their fear.

Any moment, any one of us could be next.

_I summon you_

The Other Place releases me. I am gone from it. I am alone. I am separate.

I grieve for my loss. I weep for what I must do.

I dread the vile tasks and look forward to its end. Soon, I will go home. I pray it will be soon. Soon, I will be free. I pray it will be soon. Soon, I will be happy. I pray it will be soon.

_I command you_

I settle into a form- female, blue eyes, black hair, pale skin, shapely figure (always a good move where male magicians are concerned) and, on impulse, flaming claws.

Remind the little buggers that things are not always what it seems. Keep 'em on their toes, as it were.

"Djinni," my new master begins. "Answer me a question."


	2. Demon Named

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I thunder and rage. The storm of my soul burns in my hands and through the cool lying light of my eyes.

But it is a fury without direction. The calm figure before me does nothing. Oh, he imprisons me, but I've been there done that- one more slavery is no cause for anger. It's a nothing in the scope of all my wounds.

I refuse to answer, to query what question I must reply to, and normally this would earn me at least the Stipples.

The strange new master doesn't even react. His command is different than the usual redundant 'I charge you to tell me your name'. I look at him, an unusual thing in itself (it is difficult for my fiery eyes to withstand the painful ugliness of humans for long) and I see a most unusual creature.

He is a boy, not over fourteen, skinny- no, scrawny. His bones jut out in a way that is clearly unhealthy. It is not the thinness of an athlete, nor of an anorexic. He lacks any muscular definition- literally skin and bones.

His skin is the same red-brown as all his people's. There is nothing unusual in it, though it is very smooth. A scholar, and a boy still with no acne or scarring or new grown beard. His hair is black and long as silk, and his eyes…

I look into them for only a moment.

Then I must peer away. It is a shameful thing- a _human_ overpowering a _third-level djinni_ with no weapon but its gaze? Still, I remember the searing power of his liquid brown eyes.

"I am Ptolemy," he says. A magician.

A magician has just trusted a djinni with his name. It can't be his birth name, surely, but still… I can now repel his attacks. I am safe.

"This is my birth name," he continues. Does he think me such a fool? "I don't intend to torment you, to use any punishing spells. I would prefer simply to talk to you, to learn the answers to my questions. Thus, I don't see how you can harm me. You are safe, Bartimaeus. You can trust me."

I laugh and laugh. The form of the fair maiden quakes with my uproarious mirth. "So long as you call me by a name, I can trust no one. Names are powerful things, stupid human boy."

"Is it foolish to trust one who's never done me any harm?"

"Don't doubt that I would. If you give me the chance, I'll kill you like this." I snap my long fingers.

"Why? I can't hurt you. You know my name."

I laugh again. "Boy, every second I must spend chained in this world is a torment."

He grins, taking out a notepad and wetting his lips with his tongue. "Truly? Now, do you mean that literally or figuratively?"

It is an utterly bewildering statement.

"What?" Not up to my usual eloquence, but I can scarcely help it. I am so put out by his strangeness.

"Physical pain, or the emotional torment of captivity?"

I am staring by this point. And then, again, I chuckle. "I won't tell you anything, boy."

"Why not?"


	3. Demon Lying

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I laugh. "Why not? Why not? Because, my dear stupid apprentice, anything I say can and will be used against me. Aren't you going to read me my rights? There's a law about that, or there will be eventually. I tell you things, you use them to make up new ways to torture me. Isn't that dandy?"

He stares. "I… I would never torture a demon."

I roll my eyes. "Riiiiiiight."

"No, Bartimaeus. It's the truth. I am not going to hurt you."

The feeble boy is lucky enough to be treated to my triple-deluxe stare of doom. "Wow. Just how stupid do you think I am?"

"Intelligent, far more so than any human."

"A magician whose head _isn't _stuffed with rocks? Will wonders never cease." I shook my attractive head in feminine awe. It was a mockery, of course. I am quite fond of mockery.

"I am truly serious about this, Bartimaeus. I do not intend to enslave you. I wish to _speak _with you. To _learn _from you, as an equal. As a student."

I cough loudly. "Erm, yeah. Either you're lying, or you're nuts. Take your pick, kiddo. And about the enslave thing- you do know that every single time you call me by my name you're pretty much reinforcing that I'm here against my will to do your bidding? Which, by the way, sounds like slavery to me. But what do I know. I'm an icky demon."

"Very well. What would you prefer I call you?"

"Wha- are you actually taking my advice?"

"Of course. You have every right to choose your own name."

I am finding it difficult to despise this kid properly. "Er- right then. How about… where am I?"

"An unusual name," he comments blandly.

"No, stupid. Where am I? I'd like a frame of reference, y'know, before I end up calling myself something totally incongruous and/or likely to get me killed."

He flushes, the red dark under his smooth skin. "Egypt."  
"Excellent. How about… Rekhyt?"

"Why?"

"Symbol of slavery. _You _may not _intend _to enslave me, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm a slave. So… Rekhyt."

"I like the name."

"I like yours. Original."

"Sarcasm?"

"You noticed." I'm surprised. The typical magician would be too busy preening after the compliment to notice the fact that it makes no sense whatsoever. I mean, he's the, what, four hundredth Ptolemy? Not very unique. "So, kid, what'd ya summon me for?"

"As I explained, I wish to know about the nature of the Other Place. Your home. What is it like? Do demons have a leader? Is there a society? A hierarchy? Do you marry?"

"Whoa, there. Slow down. One at a time. By the way, while you're still pretending to respect me, I don't particularly care for the term 'demon'. It makes me sound all baby-murdering-red-eyed-fiend."

"Whatever you prefer."

"So, your questions. Um, we have a leader. A king. Right now, it's a foliot named Ishkibbible." Now, I am drawing this out of my butt. This is total and utter crap. We spirits have no leader, no system, no society.

"Really? A foliot?" He scribbles that down. "How does that work?"

"Election. Every year, there's a poll of spirits."

"Fascinating."

I stare. He believes me. I'm lying so obviously, and he believes me. Either he's an idiot or he actually trusts a djinni.

I'm leaning towards 'idiot'. From past patterns, it's far more likely.


	4. Demon Freed

**Please, please review. Slash makes me happy. Does slash make you happy? REVIEW if it does. REVIEW if it doesn't. REVIEW if you like this story. REVIEW if you don't. just... REVIEW!**

"You are dismissed, Bartimaeus. Thank you for your time," the kid says politely.

I stare at him _again. _Wow, is he ever full of surprises for a scrawny kid. "What? You sure?"

"Of course."

I can feel the summons abate, the force of the cruel magic that ties me to this world fading, so I am not held here. It is hard to maintain my physical form, but I do. It's strange to want to stay, but my shock is a powerful motivation. "Sure you don't wanna, I dunno, torment me a bit first? Set me to commit some crimes? Coupla Stipples? Systematic Vice?"

"Unless you have some strong desire to be tortured, you are free to go," he says with the first true smile that's ever graced his face in my presence. It is a fascinating expression. He seems so truly amused by my consternation.

"And you call yourself a magician, kid," I shake my head in mock disdain. "You are disdaining hundreds of years of proud tradition. Take it from someone who was there. I gotta tell you, I've served more masters than I can count on one hand," and here I popped out a new appendage with limitless digits, "but I have never, _never _been summoned without being punished for something or other."

He openly gasps. "Really?"

"Don't look so surprised, kid. It's a hard life. If you don't mind…"

"Go ahead, Bartimaeus. You are dismissed," he says again, and I follow the summons.

I disappear, leaving no hideous aftereffects, only a small chirruping bird and the smell of flowers in summertime.

I tell myself it's to shake him up a bit. He seems so unflappable, and I'd like to see what he does now- one minute I'm accusing him of wanting to torture me, the next I'm leaving sweet scents behind.

And yet, even at this early date, I already know I'm lying to myself.

I want to see what he does now because…

I'd like to see another smile on his face.

I'm not sure why, really, I can't find a reason. He isn't particularly attractive- I've known some pretty dang good-looking humans. Most of them were fair maidens (or youths, evil isn't sexist or homophobic) I was charged to kidnap for twisted masters who couldn't get their attentions willingly.

I've spent time with some of these, my fellow captives, and found that beauty is really pretty meaningless. I mean, they look good, sure, but there's nothing _inside _that beautiful head. Besides, I can look however I want. Why would I have to pursue it in another?

But there is no shallowness in Ptolemy. He wants me to trust him. He cares about… about me. He has a desperate hunger to learn.

He's probably just another magician. It would be deeply stupid to trust him.

Yet I do…

And I don't know why.

These are human thoughts. They don't belong here. Already I can feel my siblings, my self, swarming to refute me. I cast aside my maunderings and turn into the swirl of life.


	5. Demon Caught

**REVIEW! this story has gotten a very positive response, but not enough of one. so please, please, please, REVIEW!**"Greetings, Rekhyt," Ptolemy says politely. I nod at him.

"Yo." According to an implet I know, this greeting will become popular in about another two thousand years. I enjoy contaminating the timestream, a bit of vindictive fun. Despite my infinite superiority to imps, I cannot see the future. However, if I bother one enough, it will tell me little things like this shortly before I eat it.

"Pardon?"

"Hello," I clarify, and then wonder why. Why am I taking his needs into account? I hate him. He is just another master. He tortures me. He is my enemy… just like all the others. There is nothing at all special about him.

"Ah. Is that a demon- a spirit- term?" His eyes widen in interest, and I find myself, mesmerized, staring into them. I've never seen hat color in human eyes before. They are not the black of most people in this country, pure darkness with no light, no glint, no shine. No, his eyes are brown, like the shadow of a passing bird over the tan desert sands- a black-brown, dark like sepia at night.

And they're warm. The desert analogy ends here, because it is not like the dry heat of the earth, parched and empty. No, his eyes are more like the ocean, glistening with light and brightness and hidden life and beauty shining in them as ideas set them afire like the gleam of sunshine on salt water sets it sparkling…

What is _wrong _with me? It's a pair of _human eyes, _of which I've seen innumerable hundreds of thousands, each totally indistinct none more important to me than the last. Not a one matters, nothing sticks in my mind, nothing… oh, what's wrong with me? Why can't I stop staring at him? His eyelids close, and I notice the way his lashes curve, these black as night, framing his eyes.

"Rekhyt, may I ask what you're looking at?" he asks, mildly as always.

"Nothing, and none of your business," I retort, my voice intentionally quite snide. I have recovered my sarcasm, and since I'm pretty pissed at myself and he's a convenient target, it's even worse than my usual snarking.

"Of course. I apologize," he says with a nod, almost a bow, of respect. I grip my hands into fists, my nails (currently black and claw-like) cutting into the leathery blue skin I possess for the moment.

It's the first time a human has ever shown me respect knowing my nature. "Whaddya wanna know today, kid?"

"I'd like to speak to you about the validity of the information you've been giving me."

I close my eyes. He's referring to the outright and heinous lies, of course. This is my fifth summoning, and I haven't said the truth, not ever, except for the occasional outburst, usually when I'm overwhelmed like this, trying to ignore the odd way in which he affects me.

No, wait, he doesn't… I can't admit to myself the fact that I've been staring at him, that I think he's… what, beautiful?

Yes, beautiful. I am… _attracted… _to the human. And that bothers me, almost as much as the words out of Ptolemy's mouth.

"I know you're lying to me, Bartimaeus."


	6. Demon Trusted

**REVIEW! Barty and Ptolemy are going to get some sexual tension soon... i'm really looking forward to writing that ;)**"

I freeze, stiffening, except for a tremor in one of my hands it seems I cannot control, no matter how hard I focus. The ache in my essence flares. "I… what?" Wow. I have truly set a new level for coherency among djinni. I have out-weirded myself, now. I can't think of words, not an unusual occurrence where Ptolemy and I are concerned. Language has so long been my only weapon, and yet this unassuming human is constantly disarming me.

He mistakes my terror. "Believe me, Rekhyt, I have no intention of resorting to the crude methods of my fellow magicians. If you do not wish to tell me the truth in the future, however, I would much prefer you tell me so outright, instead of attempting to persuade me of falsehoods- it simply makes my research so much more reliable."

"So, the no-punishment thing still stands?" I raise my eyebrows. I hadn't even been thinking about that. However, it does seem _extremely _unlikely that I'm going to get away with this. Heck, I bet, since my charge was to answer his questions, I could even get the Fire for this- withered into nothing, automatic disintegration.

"Of course. I don't think information gathered under the threat of torture is particularly reliable. Do you, Rekhyt?"

"Not at all, but then you're operating under the assumption that humans have brains."

He laughs. "Ah, I know I do, but some of my peers- a certain cousin, especially- might be questionable. No, Rekhyt, your disinformation will not lead to any sort of retribution. It would fly in the face of everything I am attempting to learn here, to create. I don't see where I would get the right to punish a being of superior intellect and ability."

I gape. I can feel my jaw hanging. "Well, Isis' breas…"

"Spare me, Rekhyt, please."

"You actually get it."

He smiles. "Yes."

"I'll tell you the truth. If you really want to hear it. And if you promise not to use it against us," I swear, and in that moment I mean it.

"I vow, by my magic and my mother's grave. May jackals eat my soul should I betray your trust."

I detect no hint of falsehood in the liquid glimmer of his gaze, and with a deep (and unnecessary) breath, I begin.

"Well, we don't have a ruler. We don't have a system of superiority at all, or even an identity, until we come here…"

"No Ishkibibble?"

I can tell he's laughing at me. "You knew, didn't you, that I was making it up?"

"I am, Rekhyt, as previously discussed, not stupid. I am capable of putting together context clues and your nature to decide that you are unlikely to tell me the truth."

I raise a hand in protest. "But I'm-"

He continues. "I'm also, and I intend no vanity, intelligent enough to know that you are telling the truth now. And that we are no longer enemies just because I am a magician and you are a djinni. We don't have to be on opposite sides, Rekhyt, my… my friend."

**Awww... isn't he sweet? now clicky on the reviewy buttony, pleasy.**


	7. Demon Befriended

**Please Review. The more reviews, the sooner Barty and Ptolemy admit to their burning passion!!**

**Barty: What passion?**

**Me: you know which.**

**Barty: whistles no I don't!**

I suck in a deep breath, my claws going deeper into fists, and look right at him. I say the first thing that pops into my head, "Never had a friend before."

"What?" he is utterly bewildered. I grin.

"Never had a friend."

"Not a human, surely, but I believe… other spirits? Surely?"

"Eh… not so much." He's always asking the nature of our relationships. I'm not quite sure to explain it. "When we're in the Other Place, we're all very much the same, like a big swirling mess of spirits. You can't tell me from Quixley or Tyrine from Beezlequad. I mean, it's just a big bunch of essence. We only become distinct here, and so we don't really make friends."

"So you are all one being?" he asks, keenly interested.

"Not really. We are distinct, but…" this is quite difficult to explain. No human's ever shown even a passing interest in our natures and homes before. And every spirit understands what we are, and there is no need to put it into words. "In the Other Place, the distinctions don't matter. There is no danger, no fear, no pain, just an endless peaceful existence."

"Sounds rather pleasant." He sits, still in his pentacle, and looks right at me. I do not meet his eyes. I can't- they have too much inexplicable power over me. Instead, I look at his hands. They are constantly scribbling on the papyrus he keeps constantly handy, writing down my information (my betrayal, a part of me suggests) word for word.

"It is. We love it there. It's our home, the one place where we're happy. When we're here, we are not one any longer. We have separate identities, allies and enemies, tasks and obstacles. It's much more difficult. And much worse."

"Do spirits have… emotions? Like humans do?"

I mock offense. "Of course. No, I'm actually a rock… yes, I feel pain, and sorrow, and fear."

"Any happiness? Joy? Love?"

"No. Of course not. There are very few positive experiences in my life, Ptolemy. When I return to the Other Place, I would feel relieved or even happy, but the emotions djinni feel is largely because of our captivity here. They fade in the Other Place. I have never in my existence been happy. I have had some brief moments that are less painful than others, but I have never been happy." I risk a glance at Ptolemy's face. His eyes have gotten even bigger and wetter, like he's holding in tears. "What, kid? Spit it out."

"That's… sad, Bartimaeus."

"No shi- no kidding, genius."

He grins. "Thank you for the censorship, my friend."

"My friend, you're welcome. I would not want to spoil your tender youthful ears, would I?"

At that precise moment, two lovers come up the steps- Ptolemy's oaf of a cousin and a very drunk young woman. "Ptolemy, you rascal!" she squeals. There is a loud groan.

"No, of course you wouldn't," Ptolemy replies. "We Egyptian lads are kept so innocent, are we not?"

I laugh. He laughs too. "You know, for a human… you're fairly entertaining. And that's a compliment. The last time I was entertained by a human, he ended up being toasted by the six afrits he tried to summon."

Ptolemy bows. "Why, thank you."

**Isn't they so CUTEEE!**


	8. Demon Hoping

**Barty likes reviews. He also likes big butts and he cannot lie. **

**Barty: whistles again**

**Apologies to Jonathon Stroud for the horrible things i do to his characters while he isn't looking.**

Three weeks later, I sat quite comfortably in Ptolemy's chamber, speaking with him about magic. "We simply have greater abilities than humans. Our essence is fluid, and we can transmit its powers to external areas."

"But how can you do things like- oh, the Noisome Wind?"

I snort. "That's essentially… well… you know I try to limit the crudity when we converse, but Ptolemy… the Noisome Wind is basically a fart."

He snickers. "I know. I am not entirely discrete from my fellow adolescent males, Rekhyt."

"Yes, you are. I mean, if they were the princes of Egypt, they'd be off doing normal things- like that cousin of yours. Chasing girls and drinking. And you're here, having a nice chat with a demon."

"A chat about farts."

"I never thought I would ever hear you say that, Ptolemaius."

"Must you be so Romanized, my friend?'

"The world drifts toward Rome, Ptolemy. It's simply fact. That is how you will be remembered in a hundred years," I began.

"No. I will be remembered as the man who freed the djinn."

"What?"

He sighs and pinches his temple between two fingers. "Well, I meant to actually get some of my research done before I told you this… I… I plan to… write of the demo- the spirits. I want to teach the other magicians what I've learned, of your nature, of the fact that you're… not all that different than us. And I plan to let them know you deserve freedom…"

I laugh aloud. He looks hurt. I ignore it and state the simple facts. "Listen, Ptolemy, it isn't that you haven't got a lovely ambition, because you do. It's simply impossible. Magicians are pigheaded and insufferably cruel, and they're going to go on being pigheaded and insufferably cruel until the end of time, and you can write all the fancy papers you'd like, Ptolemaius, but that's going to stay the same."

"No." He says it so simply, like a fact and nothing more, shaking his head. I've never heard him give such an utter refutation of anything I've said. He is almost ignoring my input. "No, Bartimaeus."

I stare. And he's using my name. This is unusual, for him. Normally, I wouldn't give it a second thought that a magician was ignoring my input, but this isn't a magician, this is Ptolemy (_my Ptolemy _a voice in the back of my head whispers, as I tell it to shut the heck up) and something is wrong.

"You really believe this, don't you? That this is going to happen?"

"Yes." It was just as simple as his denial of a moment ago. I shook my head, and almost said what I was thinking.

_You're an idiot. Send me home, because this is pointless. _But something prevented me. I didn't know what. Actually, I did (I am infinitely intelligent. Very little escapes my knowledge.) I just refused to admit it. "Well, don't let me get in the way. If you want to end my slavery, I wish you luck. What do you need to know?"

**REVIEW!**


	9. Demon Suspicious

**Well, we're getting REAL close now to the happy bits. PLEASE review, and Bartimaeus will give you a hug.**

My summonings become more and more frequent as Ptolemy gets further in his research. I almost begin to enjoy them. Not the fact that I was being rent from my homeland, not the aching of the pain that was omnipresent on the terrestrial sphere, but rather the company.

Ptolemy is interesting. I suppose he isn't just my first friend, he's also the only person I've ever known- the only one who isn't substantially myself and also has no intention of hurting me.

I trust him, now. I don't believe he intends to cause me pain. In fact, I am certain he will not. It is an odd feeling, this trust.

Ptolemy has no _fear. _Of anything, not just of demons. It is not merely that he doesn't suspect me. He doesn't' suspect anyone else, either. He simply believes no one in the world is out to do him harm, when I see the world the opposite way- I believe that everyone is my enemy, just waiting for my doom to be convenient for them to carry out.

Ptolemy is fourteen. I'm several thousand.

I think my experiences are somewhat more valid than his.

I worry about him, actually. His cousin is turning his eyes toward him. After the incident with the bull, the other Ptolemy became paranoid. After the other Ptolemy tried to kill me, he got worse.

It's not very notable to me- I've been the victim of so many assassination attempts that I don't really remark my near-death experiences any more. I am constantly almost being killed. Who cares.

But humans- humans like Ptolemy- are much more delicate than I am. It only takes one little Detonation to finish them off. I understand human nature much better than Ptolemy.

He is a good person, a rare commodity. He honestly believes everyone is as harmless as himself. It's practically foolish, and he's no idiot. He thinks there is no danger, that no one would really kill another, that life is precious, that everyone has a moral code.

Djinni who have a tendency to live according to precepts of right and wrong have a tendency not to live very long. You do what you're told, or you get Shriveling Fired. That's just the way it is… and no human has scruples about sending djinni off to do hideously amoral things. I could read you a list, if you'd like. I've committed murders, and tortured innocents, and inflicted emotional agonies on people.

I thought I was incapable of guilt.

And then I met Ptolemy.

That is when I realized I could still care. I care what he thinks of me.

And I don't know why!

But this is off-topic. I need to convince the stupid boy that he needs to be careful. I've tried to do the watching for him, looking over his shoulder for assassins, taking his shape and dealing with them, but even the few formal attempts haven't convinced the boy.

He doesn't trust in the inherent cruelty of people, any more than I trust in their goodness.


	10. Demon Shocked

**YA! SLASH! REVIEW!**

"Rekhyt, I have a question," he says. This is not at all unusual. In fact, every other sentence he says is the above. The other half of his utterances are the questions themselves.

"Ptolemy, I have an answer," I respond. He rolls his eyes as usual.

He says it very matter-of-factly, the same tone of voice as all his questions. "How do spirits reproduce?"

I stare for a second, and then clear my throat. "Erm, I'm not sure this is really in the job description. How babies are made…"

"I said _spirits, _Rekhyt. Do you reproduce the same way as humans? Do you mate as we do, marry, fall in love, nurture the young…"

Another not uncommon occurrence, the stream of questions coming out too fast for it to even be possible for me to answer them all. I raise a hand. "Whoa, buddy. Deep breath." Sarcastically, he takes an exaggeratedly immense breath. "Thank you. No, spirits do not make babies the same way you do. In fact, we do not make babies at all."

"So every demo- spirit currently here has always been extant?"

"Now, this is complicated. There are an infinite number of us. Some of us are unlucky enough to be named already, like yours truly. The rest float around in a sort of whirl, in the Other Place. Once you've been named, you're defined. You could say that the first summoning is how spirits are born. However, they _exist _prior to it."

"No new spirits are ever made?" he says, eyes wide.

"Never. Every demon there ever will be is already in existence, whether named and able to be called here or merely a nameless entity, conscious but not individual, in the Other Place."

"That's fascinating. So, it would not be an incorrect assumption that, since you do not reproduce, djinni and other orders of spirit do not pursue romantic attachments?"

Wow. This is a _deeply _uncomfortable conversation, especially given the way my eyes keep drifting towards him unless I'm extremely careful. "Not as a rule. Sometimes we have close friendships, and sometimes those close friendships do include… physical contact. But friends are inconvenient. You can get ordered to kill 'em at any time. As it's totally unnecessary to the perpetuation of our species, we don't do a lot of it."

"And a spirit would never form such an attachment with a human?" he says. His eyes are sparkling with something I can't explain or define, again with the strength of sunlight on water.

"Never that I've heard of. Most humans… would never consider such a thing. They don't think of us as people," I say, trying to keep my voice calm. "Why do you ask?"

Ptolemy closes his eyes. "Because… I have met many humans, as sheltered as you think I am, Rekhyt. I am not such a child as you believe. I have met my cousin's array of women. I have met every eligible and reportedly attractive human, male and female, from here to Rome. But I've never, not with all those humans, found one human being I found… interesting."

"You used the word human four times in that paragraph," I point out, trying so hard to stay neutral.

"Yes," he whispers, closing his eyes.

"Why?"

"Rekhyt, we both know you're more intelligent than that. Surely you can figure it out."

"Yes. I can."

"Now you know, I suppose," he says, shrugging. "If you are uncomfortable, I will dismiss you. However, if not, we do have work to do." I am silent for a moment. He sighs and raises both hands above his head, beginning the dismissing spell.


	11. Demon Admitting

**REVIEW!**

"Whoa, buddy- what are ya doing?"

I am proud of myself. It's remarkably coherent, given the circumstances. I've finally found my voice, and, despite my lapse in ability to speak, I've fully recovered my flippancy.

Barty is back, and more sarcastic than ever!

"I am dismissing you, my… friend."

That last word falls somewhat hollowly on my ears, all currently-seven of them. I roll my eyes. "I'm not _stupid, _Ptolemy. I can _see _that. What I want to know is… why?"

He lowers his arms, only far enough to shade his eyes, rubbing his forehead as he concentrates. I recognize he's looking for words rather desperately. Finally, he speaks, his voice hesitant. Halting. It's so different from his usual speeding tone that I hardly recognize his voice. "I… just… I… when you did not answer, I presumed you do not… wish to remain here. It's understandable…" I cross my legs, sitting on the floor with my head in my hands, and don't answer. Ptolemy's awkward speech trails off. "Rekhyt?"

"And here I thought you were so all-fired smart, Ptolemy. Now I see you're a dense idiot like every other human." I don't look up at him. However, he quite clearly recognizes the familiar mocking tone in my voice.

"What…" he begins. Ah, questions. _When _does he not have a question? It's really remarkable. Even in this exceptionally awkward and quite intelligence-numbing situation, he has a _question. _

"Are you blind? Did you really not see it? And here I thought I was being ludicrously obvious about it."

"About what?"

For a second, I am silent. My gut response, as demonstrated above, is to be flippant. And yet Ptolemy insists on… not getting it. Sarcasm isn't working. I'm going to have to say it.

Now, in my millennia, I have encountered many, many difficult situations. I have assassinated paranoid kings. I have babysat the two hundred and twelve children of Lord Anhetekon for three days straight. I have moved mountains with my will alone. I have worn ugly, itchy floral sweaters knitted by blind grandmothers in hundred degree weather and in public places. I have boxed with a shark in boiling lava. I have eaten nine Snickers bar in a row- without barfing. I am a being of varied and exceptional talents, and I have used them to overcome nearly insurmountable odds.

And nothing, _nothing, _not even the Snickers bars, can compare to this.

Ridiculously, there are butterflies in my stomach. I'm not even sure why I bother having a stomach. It's not as though I require nutrition. Perhaps I sprouted one for just this purpose.

I feel very vulnerable and very… human. It's as though I have regained some part of myself I didn't know could even exist.

I don't much care for the sensation, to tell the truth. Is it this hard for you humans all the time? No _wonder_ you're so nutty!

"Rekhyt?" His voice is quiet and remarkably calm. Slowly, with as much restraint as I can manage, I lift my eyes and look very quietly into his.

"I would have thought, Ptolemaius, that an intelligent young man like yourself would be able to tell that somehow, by hook or by crook, you have managed to make Bartimaeus, Sakhr Al-Jinni, Ngorso the Mighty, The Serpent of Silver Plumes… Rekhyt, friend of Ptolemy. I don't know how you did it, but you have managed to make me fall in love with you."

**REVIEW!**


	12. Demon Loved

**REVIEW!!**

For the very first time since I denounced his ambition, he pronounces my true name. "Bartimaeus."

And for the very first time since the ancient Phoeniceans summoned me, I hear that name, not as a curse or a shackle, but as a welcome blessing.

"Is that the truth, my friend? You need not lie, you know."

"Oy, even you. Humans. They never trust a word you say- y'know, I think that says a heck of a lot more about your reliability than about mine."

He shakes his head, barely smiling, and then continues. "Is it true that you…" his voice breaks, "love me?"

I surprise myself with my own confidence (though by now confidence should never surprise one, coming from me) "Yes."

The most awkward silence this world has ever known fills the room. I occupy myself, as I usually do during dull spots in conversations, by shifting through the planes. There is nothing- Ptolemy's room, as usual, contains just he, I, and a lot of papyri.

Finally, he breaks the quiet, since he can only stare at the blank walls with one kind of vision. "What do we do now, Rekhyt?"

"Despite my infinitely superior intellect and inconceivably more varied life experience, I am just as new to this as you are." As long as I can stay snarky, though, I feel pretty secure. I do have to restrain myself, or I will end up getting nauseatingly fluffy. No one wants to see that, believe me.

"No… I mean… how does this change… our… relationship?" He barely puts the questioning emphasis on it.

A part of me wants to use this power I've been given over him. Just as he has this _brilliant_ plan to free the djinn, taking the sins of an eternity of magicians upon his essentially innocent self, I want to take all our revenge upon him. A part of me feels the urge to laugh scornfully and say, 'Relationship? With a _human?_", blast some brimstone in his eyes, and disappear.

The rest of me is thrilling, rather ludicrously, to the mere word. "I'm not sure. What exactly _is _our relationship?"

"As of ten minutes ago, we were friends."

"Yes." I nod. "That doesn't help now, does it?"

"No," he concurs. "It most certainly does not."

"We are…" I wince. How to say this, and not sound unspeakably crude? Then I realize that's truly never stopped me before, and if I'm so set on maintaining my sarcastic dignity, this would be a good time to reinforce that. "Lovers?"

He winces too. "Rekhyt…"

"Never mind." Idiot, idiot, idiot!

You trusted a human. You told him you _loved _him, even before you knew it yourself! And now look where it's gotten you…

You have made a grand fool out of yourself. Imbecile!

I have never been more ashamed in all my life. That I allowed myself to think he would want to…

Return my ridiculous affections, which by the by should never have existed in the first place.

This child. How could this child, this boring, _insignificant, utterly and completely average _human _child _change me like this?

While I was ranting in my head, Ptolemy had apparently been gathering all his courage. "Not… like that. It isn't that I wouldn't want to… to…" he closes his eyes.

You know you're dealing with some seriously awkward subject matter when _Ptolemy _is at a loss for words.

Inwardly, I recant my rant. "But?"

"But I don't think it would be fair."

I cock my head and stare interestedly at him. "Extrapolate."

**REVIEW!**


	13. Demon Touching

**REVIEW!!**

"Well… I am… _technically… _your master."

Kinky. I raise my eyebrows. "I'm aware. This has _what _to do with the price of silk in Sweden?"

"It would feel as though I were… taking advantage. Rekhyt, I know that there are magicians who give orders to that… effect. I am not one of them, my friend. If we are going to… I want you to know I see you as… I love you, Bartimaeus."

I grin. "That was the least coherent sentence you've ever uttered. I'm getting, however, that you're worried about consent issues what with the _slight _power imbalance we've got going on here, right?"

"Yes," he says with no small measure of relief.

"That's stupid. So's ya knows, my boy, if I didn't want you to do something, you wouldn't be doing it. Am I in a pentacle? No. Do I know your birth name? Yes. Have you _ever _made me do something I didn't want to? No. Re: Not likely, buddy."

"So you wouldn't…"

I roll my eyes, swallow my pride, and say, "No." Simply, but that's all it takes, apparently.

The widest smile I've ever seen on him splits Ptolemy's face, and he says, "Well, then."

An inane thought darts across my mind.

I am eternal, having existed since the beginning of time, and in this world for several millennia.

And I've never been kissed.

I remedy that, in the most apparent way I can conceive.

By leaning two inches forward and four degrees or so to the left.

There's a dash of guilt at the speed with which I do it, that I'm not sure _he's _given permission.

And then my lips touch his.

I can hear a roaring in my ears. Like the ocean, I suppose, though I've never seen it- only lived nearby while tending the aforementioned huge bunch of children. The sound builds softly.

The sensation is deeply unfamiliar. I'm not sure how to describe this first kiss, except for… sweet.

And kind of wet.

To be entirely candid- and obsfucation is _not_ a fault of mine. It's slightly unpleasant.

But the rest of me doesn't care about a little moisture.

That sounded way dirtier than it was supposed to… I simply meant that' I'm fluttering like a teenaged girl in love. It's simply beautiful, the way I feel right now, the way his eyes are shining.

I move my face back an inch and see an expression on his face I cannot interpret.

I raise a hand and touch his face, uncertain. It occurs to me that he hasn't said a word. Great. I've moved too fast, messed up somehow. I'm certain of it.

I'm so _new _at this. It's deeply different than the way Ptolemy sees me, as an omnipotent omniscient djinni.

That applies to every area of existence except this one. I know nothing about this. About how to be with someone, especially a human, about how to have a normal or in fact any relationship, about how to make him happy.

I want to, though, I know that.

I pull away from him. "Ptolemy?"

REVIEW!


	14. Demon Walking

**REVIEW!!**

"Ah. Rekhyt," he says, almost a whisper, and closes his eyes. I want to scream.

I _like _his eyes. Now that I'm finally aloud to admit that to myself, I'd really rather he didn't close them.

And I'm terrified. What will he say now, what will he do?

What have I done? Right or wrong? Have I…

Pleased him?

Or royally screwed this up?

I am leaning toward the latter. I touch his face softly, and repeat his name. "Ptolemy."

"I am very confused, my friend. Please, forgive me. I am very… uncertain about how to progress with this… Rekhyt, I have never loved before this. I lusted for libraries, not for any manner of living being. I never expected this to happen, and I pray you will not hold it against me that I do not know what to do."

"That's all right," I say, and laugh, in relief and honest amusement. "I've never thought I _could _love someone. I'm pretty much running on best guesses and… instinct, I suppose. Though it's an inexplicable sort of instinct for a djinni to have—it's not like anyone else has had to deal with this before, I mean—I'm babbling, aren't I?"

Ptolemy smiles. "Yes, a little."

"So, the question remains—what do we do?"

"A very good question." He cautiously takes my hand and stands. "Let's go for a walk, shall we?"

I suddenly realize we've missed his characteristic stroll. "Sure. Before we do, though, can I change into a form that maybe won't attract so many stares? That or you let go of my hand."

He blushes, presumably at the reminder that he's touching me. I grin back cheekily and shift. Suddenly, I'm a woman—it's not my preferred form, but it is more convenient. I have long dark hair and a perhaps unduly shapely figure. "Let's see what your cousin thinks of this," I tease.

"He'll probably try to drag you into a dark alleyway," Ptolemy grumbles.

I shrug. "Not unlikely. At least I have a big strong man like you to defend me."

He indicates his arms, which, I must concede, are not particularly muscular. "Yes, that's me, the height of physical prowess."

I laugh. And move my hand from inside his to around his waist. I hear him gulp, and I laugh again. "What were you saying earlier about not being innocent?"

He joins in my laughter. Like this, with my hand around him, we walk, as we are accustomed, to the marketplace.

It's dark, evening already, and the moon is out. Half is hidden between clouds which form a pale grey contrast to the navy sky. The pale light falls on Ptolemy's skin, lighting it up as if from within. He practically glows in the moonlight.

Despite the later-than-usual hour, the market was crowded with spices and smells and people crying out in Ancient Egyptian.

I could understand, of course, what with my demonic powers, and it was Ptolemy's native language.

"Honeycomb!"

"Silk!"

"Squid!"

I ignore the calls, as usual.

"Nutmeg!"

Ptolemy breathes in the smell. It is meaningless to me, but he inhales carefully. I watch his nose widen and shrink as he breathes, study the inflation of his chest.

"For the pretty lady!" another trader calls, his teeth rotten in his mouth. "Earrings!"

I turn, realizing that I am at the moment the 'pretty lady'. The salesman grins. "What would you like, madam?"

I swear and duck.

**REVIEW!**


	15. Demon Curious

**REVIEW!!**

And then I remember that, though I don't have orders to protect him with my life as per the usual, I don't really want this particular master to die. I swing back up, grab Ptolemy, and duck again, just in time for the spell to explode over my head.

He trembles a little in my arms, as I shift from the form of the beautiful woman to a large, burly minotaur. I don't have time for the prettiness, worrying over the shade and gloss of my fur. I just change.

I come up roaring and shrieking, my new species ready to attack. I caught sight of the attacker, his royal livery bright against the colors of the marketplace.

Okay, if you're trying to assassinate someone, why would you send a mercenary in your _uniform? _

Isn't that sort of really stupid?

I sighed and hit the guy head on with a Detonation.

It exploded.

He exploded.

The watching storekeepers and shoppers turned and began jabbering.

"Did you _see _that, Hotep?"

"I think it was a marid!"

A marid? Really, I'm flattered. But I'm nowhere near that conceited. I have a healthy respect for my incredibly amazing accomplishments. Unlike marids who think they light the moon- and really that's only accurate in one instance.

"No. No, it wasn't. It was one of the Prince Ptolemy's demons."

Ugh. I dislike that word. And Ptolemy isn't a prince. That sort of talk will only make his cousin more paranoid, and serve to spoil our evening walks further.

"He is a great mage, Antrotek."

I lift up the great mage and spring him back to his room. About halfway there, he sighs. "Rekhyt, please put me down."

"Your wish, my command," I say and obey.

Once again on his own two feet, he runs his fingers through his hair. "What was _that?"_

"Someone tried to kill you."

"That much is obvious."

"I took care of it."

"Did you kill the attacker?"

"I used a Detonation." This report feels oddly formal, given that it's Ptolemy I'm speaking to, the same Ptolemy I so recently had a very different conversation with.

"You saved my life," he says softly. "Thank you."

I shrug. "Just doing my job."

He is silent for a moment. "Actually, no. I never charged you to protect me, Rekhyt. You could just as easily have let me perish."

If it were anyone but him, I would have. "No," I disagree.

"Yes."

"Not as easily. In fact, your… death… is the hardest thing I can imagine, Ptolemy." It's quite embarrassing. Until he smiles.

"Thank you, my friend."

For a second, there is a comfortable silence as we settle in on the soft pillows scattered through his room. I pierce it with a question. "May I ask you something?"

"How uncharacteristically polite of you. Of course."

"You don't seem to have a problem with… this form. The minotaur, I mean. You act the same, whether I'm-" I shift through a variety of bodies. "A beautiful woman. A skull. A monster with flaming eyes and fiery heart. A blue orb. An imp. A fly. A really ugly boy. No matter what I look like, you treat me the same. How do you do that?"

REVIEW!


	16. Demon Revealed

**REVIEW!!**

He smiles. "Do djinn treat each other differently depending on which form their fellows wear?"

Trust him to answer a question with a question. "No."

"Precisely. Your face, Rekhyt, does not determine the person you are. I know for a fact that your essence remains the same, no matter how many times you shift."

"No. I meant… Humans generally… fall for each other… based on looks. Or some very shallow personality traits. I would expect it would be no different for you."

This time, his response is a sigh, almost a sad one. And _another _question. "Do you love me, Rekhyt, because of my face?"

Gently, I reach out to touch his cheek. "No. But I'm a djinni. I know that the way you look doesn't determine who you are. You are a human."

"And all my friends are spirits. I don't know humans. You are more familiar with my kind than I am."

"I'm more familiar with _everything _than you are. You're fourteen. I'm four thousand."

He laughs aloud. "True. But the point is, Rekhyt, Bartimaeus, the point is that no matter what you look like, I don't care. I love you."

It's the first time he's said it. I realize that instantly.

I never would have suspected anything like this could have existed, that a feeling like this was even possible.

I am a djinni.

I literally do not have a heart.

Or did not.

Because I can feel it beat faster at the words. My currently pale-and-stubby hands shake a little. I can feel something moving, from the stomach region of my body up toward my head where it pulses and then explodes.

Because I am not human, I can respond in a very physical way.

I turn to flame and spiral toward the ceiling in an explosion of pure joy I haven't performed since I was very new here on Earth. My body is fire, my being burning with light.

After a moment, still hovering near the roof, I speak, softly. "I love you, too."

I look down at him to see his eyes. Their inexplicable power has only increased as they widened at my display. He looks shocked. And beautiful.

I float to the ground and extend a cooler appendage, reaching out from the flame. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"You're _beautiful," _he breathes. I shake my head.

"That isn't really what I look like."

"I can only see the first three planes. Will you show me?"

"It's not pretty," I caution. "And I can only do the best I can."

"That's fine."

I shift into my more true form. From the pillow of fire, I become a pile of sludge. "This is it," I say quietly.

To my surprise, I see a smile on his face. "How odd, my friend."

"Thanks," I reply sarcastically, and shift into another form, a young man with Ptolemy's eyes and hair that is fire.

I like to stick that element in my forms. It makes me feel more at home in my bodies.

He turns to me. "You're welcome."

The way he says it tells me something, and I smile. "I love you, too."

"You said that already," he says, but he grins almost foolishly nonetheless.

**REVIEW**!


	17. Demon Furious

**REVIEW!!**

"I'm going to die one day, you know," he remarks, almost casually.

"Not if I have anything to say about it," I growl. He shrugs.

"Rekhyt, I'm human. Humans _die."_

I am totally unwilling to think about this. I don't _want _to lose him. I don't _want_ to spend all eternity alone, at the beck and call of some unnamed and loathsome master. "Why are you even bringing this up?"

"You need to be less paranoid about my cousin, Rekhyt, because if he doesn't get me something will."

"That's no way to live. I've gotten through millennia of incredible danger. And it wasn't by that sort of fatalism. Yes, I'm not going to live forever. Something will, as you so _charmingly _put it, 'get me'. There's no hope, since I'm always being ordered into one kind of danger or another, that I'll make it. But I try, even though my life wasn't half worth living until… just recently."

I am unwilling to admit the extent of the difference he's made in my life. It's not the sort of thing I'd do. 'Until you came into my life, I was completely and utterly miserable, and now I love every instant almost as much as I love you?' Not my cup of tea.

He, however, hears the unspoken words, as always, and grins. "Ah, but my friend, I am not you. My will to live does not affect whether or not I do so."

Today I have wings, and I extend them like hands as I weigh the options in each one. "Let me see. Leave Alexandria and die of old age. Stay in Alexandria and die whenever your cousin gets around to it. Leave. Stay. Leave. Stay. _Leave!"_

"Why? The library is here."

"What do you need the library for?"

"The books. The ideas. The knowledge… your _freedom, _Bartimaeus! Doesn't that mean anything to you!"

The movement of his hands has knocked a book off the table. I grimace and retrieve it. "No need to get all proper name formal on me, Ptolemy. I am merely advocating you _don't die, _because _I don't want you to._"

"Well, you need to get used to the idea. I'm going to die."

"No," I snarl. "You aren't. Not if I have anything to say about it. "

His voice is unexpectedly gentle, sweet and soft. That kindness doesn't help at all… in fact, it makes this painfully inevitable conversation all the more painful. "Rekhyt, you don't." His hand finds mine under the table. I turn away. "You are very powerful. But you can't fight death."

"I can try. I can refuse to let you be an _idiot _and get yourself _killed _when you could _live._ Live. I want you to _live. _With _me. _Because I _love you, _and _I can't lose you._"

I blush at my outburst. I'm sure it looks funny under green skin. Wow, he really has diluted my character, hasn't he? I'm losing all my sarcasm, and my wittiness, and my ability to not give a damn about anything.

Now I'm _caring _about him. I'm going to lose him, just like I'm going to lose everything. It's a mistake to take anything, because it won't be mine for long.

"Bartimaeus…"

"No."

"I cannot leave the library."

"Why not?"

**REVIEW**!


	18. Demon Betrayed

**REVIEW!!**

"I cannot abandon my dreams. My work is more important than my life." The passion is flooding his voice. My sarcasm (I'm relieved to see it hasn't abandoned me altogether) notes that he sounds more in love with this _work _than with me. I sound more like a jealous lover than my usual witty self, however, so I sigh and listen to his rant continue. "I'm a scholar, Rekhyt. It's simply the _way I am. _And I cannot abandon the djinn… I cannot abandon you. I cannot live forever, but I will dedicate however much life the gods see fit to give me to assure that when I go, I leave you in something of a better way. I do not want you to live as a slave forever—indeed, I do not think I could bear it. I will leave you free when I leave the earth. I will succeed in my goal."

I roll my eyes. "I don't intend to live forever, Ptolemy."

"I know that… but you can, if I succeed."

"Absolutely not. I don't think you understand. I do not plan to live one day longer than you do."

I didn't realize that until the very moment I said it aloud, but it's obvious. I have known it all along, I discover, that it's ridiculous to consider living a life that isn't worth living forever if I have to go through the agony of missing him on top of everything else (slavery, pain, destruction, fighting, murder… haven't we gone over this already?)

"_What?"_

"It's not that hard to do myself in, Ptolemy. After all, I can simply defy a direct order… any direct order, I'm not picky. And one, two, three, big bang, no more Barty. It's as easy as easy can be."

I shrug, and he stands. He almost towers over the table, certainly taller than I am at the moment. I'd forgotten that despite his scrawniness, he's not short. His eyes are flashing. I've never seen him truly _angry _before, and he is _furious. _He's actually scaring me… because he's scared himself. It's an emotions so completely foreign in him that I can't look away, despite the fact that it's quite intimidating, and I haven't survived untold millennia by facing down dangerous situations.

But I'm not particularly invested in survival any longer. Like what's-his-face, that imbecile who got himself incinerated for love.

I shake my head inwardly, just as Ptolemy leans over the table and snaps at me.

"Rekhyt. Listen to me." Just to be cheeky, I look away to the stacks of scrolls and whistle cheerily. He is not amused. "_Listen to me."_ I sigh and turn further from him. I do glance from the edge of one eye, and what I see is not gentle. His teeth are clenched, and I can see his eyes burning brighter, like they may actually set me aflame. "I order you to look at me, Bartimaeus of Uruk."

I cross my arms and spin around. "Oh great and awesome master, what is your will? Forgive this your humblest of servants that has dared to defy you."

"I charge you to live. As long as you can, no matter what. Is that understood, demon?"

I growl. The exhalation of breath sets a scroll on fire, and a librarian hurriedly stamps the flame out. "Understood."

"Do you accept this charge?"

"Do I have a choice?" I'm giving him one last chance.

"No." His voice is steel, and I answer formally, like he is any other human.

"I accept this charge to its letter, and will obey until the sands of time cover the face of this Earth."

His manner softens. He raises a hand over the table and touches my face. "Rekhyt…"

"No. Absolutely not." I trusted him, and those ridiculously beautiful eyes, and all his high talk of reconciliation and equality, and the instant I start to provoke him he treats me like this.

Like a slave.

"Forgive me." His tone is abject. "I did… I was angry."

"And that excuses you acting like… like a _magician?_ I trusted you, Ptolemy." I loved you.

"I am sorry. Can you blame me?"

"Yes."

He sighs and closes his eyes. "Rekhyt, I simply couldn't bear the thought that… that you would… die. For me. I would never be able to forgive myself for that. I love you. Please, forgive me."

I clench and unclench my claws and snarl.

His shoulders slump. "Very well. I will dismiss you, then?"

**REVIEW!**


	19. Demon Forgiving

**REVIEW!! Couldn't leave you on that one for very long, could I.**

"No." I say the word flatly, a single syllable's worth of utter refutation. "Absolutely not," I elaborate.

"Aren't you angry?"  
"I'm furious. I'm not going to allow you to interfere with my life because of it, Ptolemaius. I fully intend to spend as long as I can in your company. Just because you're acting like a complete and utter… _magician… _doesn't change the way I feel. So get used to it."

He grins broadly, flashing a smile from ear to ear. "I am." And then he pauses, for a moment, as if to reflect on his actions. His eyes close, and I see horror dart across his face. "Rekhyt, I'm so sorry."

"Sure you are."

"No. It was honestly unforgivable, my dear Rekhyt, that I could lash out against you in the manner of the very people I am attempting to undo the actions of. I cannot believe my own stupidity and thoughtlessness, and you are quite right to hold it against me. My friend, I pray for your forgiveness."

I huff out a fiery breath. _Another _parchment goes up in flames, and another mousy librarian beats out the fire. "Fine. You're forgiven."

I find it quite difficult to refuse him anything. He has this inexplicable and incredible power over me, one I cannot understand. Other masters have forced me to bend to their will with a greater force than he possesses, even on the rare occasions he uses it.

But I cannot resist him, no matter what he asks of me. I am bound to him more tightly than by the bonds of magic.

Deeply uncharacteristic as it is, I have submerged my free will yet again, and this time willingly. I am now bound not in slavery, but in love.

"Thank you, Rekhyt," he says brightly. I can spy the cheeriness in his tone, and it makes me sigh. "Would you be so good as to answer me a question?"

"Not this again."

"Oh, did you think my curiosity had run out simply because I'd discovered a new subject matter?"

"Not for a minute, and what new subject matter?"

"I have discovered the vast and varied science love can be, and I am determined, now that I know myself capable of experiencing it, to define it."

I groan. "We'll be here until _I _die of old age. You're insatiable."

"Yes. Aren't I?"

His smile is irresistible. "All right. What do you want to know? Though I've got no more experience with this than you, mind."

"Well, the great love stories of the past. You've seen them firsthand, correct?"

"Most of 'em, yep. And some of the ones that haven't happened yet, thanks to the occasional imp-in-scrying-glass. Couple of kids called Romeo and Juliet are going to be the next big thing in a pair of millennia, according to old Adribascus."

"A most unfortunately named creature," he comments.

"Says the man who's named after _every person he's related to._"

Ptolemy nods, accepting that much, and continues with his interrogation.

REVIEW!


	20. Demon Leaving

**REVIEW!  
**

I never thought I could hate _anything _this much.

"_No, _Ptolemaius," I growl, using the formal form of his name for emphasis, sheerly because he dislikes it and I'm mad at him. "No."

"Rekhyt, it's not as though we have a choice."

"Oh, yes it is. Send someone else. Affa. Penretut. Anyone. Summon some imp. I don't care, Ptolemy. I'm staying with you."

"Don't you think that's a bit selfish?"

"You're heartless and manipulative. And no, I don't. I think staying with the one I love is a perfectly good reason to not go."

"Rekhyt…"

"You aren't _safe _if I'm not _with you. _I don't trust anyone else to protect you, Ptolemy. And regardless of what you think, there is an _incredible _amount of danger. Half of Egypt is on your cousin's payroll, and thus after your blood."

"Touching as I find your concern, Rekhyt, you can keep me safer by dissuading that cousin from his efforts than by simply staying here with me."

"But I want to stay with you, damn it! I've never wanted anything more complicated than survival in my entire existence, and now I want you. Why can't I have this one thing, Ptolemy? Don't you feel this way at all? It will tear me apart to be away from you. I want you close. You aren't going to live forever, and I intend to savor every moment of that life. Can't you understand that? Do you feel even a little bit the same?"

He sighs. "Yes. Rekhyt, it will be _impossible _for me to be away from you. Impossible. I will miss you every moment. But at this time, you're the least useful to my researches. I must admit at the beginning I summoned you most frequently, since I craved your company so much."

"Company. Is that what they're calling it these days?"

He rolls his eyes. "Rekhyt, really."

"Sorry." Again with the disapproval thing. He's a manipulative bastard, my Ptolemy.

And I love him for it—it's the only way he can keep up with me, Bartimaeus of Uruk, whose biting sarcasm sends armies to their knees at the feet of my bad jokes.

"But now, I know all I can learn from you. It's simply not helpful for you to be around, not like the others are useful… and my researches are more important than my personal feelings. Or…" he holds up a hand as I begin to interrupt. "Or yours, Rekhyt."

"So you're sending me off? Just like that?"

"Well, I'm not going to order you to. I'm not making that mistake. But yes, I would appreciate it very much if you would go to the capital and serve my cousin for a while. Just a short time, a few weeks, until my researches are complete. Will you do that much for me, Rekhyt?"

His voice is tender by the last words, and I am helpless again.

"Yes," I sigh, "But I won't like it."

"That's all right."

He pulls me close to him, grabbing my wrist. The kiss is uncharacteristically forceful. Or perhaps passionate would be the right word. When it ends, he whispers softly, "Rekhyt. I _will _miss you."

"I know," I say, and I am gone.

**REVIEW!**


	21. Demon Lonely

**REVIEW!  
**

It sucks without him. Hard.

Get your minds out of the gutter, I didn't mean like _that._

It's just boring as hell.

Seriously, nothing at all remarkable happens. I do the typical menial labor for a bunch of minor officials. I fight off some enemies. I win a war or two.

Big deal. It's really all in a day's work. The thrill of these exploits wear off after a couple of centuries.

Okay, so the single combat with the afrit wasn't half bad. I did a nice bit of taunting and a lovely evade at the last minute—and that Detonation was very skillfully placed, if I do say so myself.

But that didn't change the fact that everything bored me. Everything. And that I missed him more intensely than I would have thought myself capable of.

Little things would remind me of him. At the precise moment I plunged the afrit into the sea, I noticed that the water was sparkling on the water just like the intuition in his eyes when he got an idea.

I killed the afrit quickly, because I had to get away from that water. I spent the rest of the day sulking in a cabin, avoiding the fact that I couldn't bear to look at the ocean because it looked too much like him.

I sound ridiculously sappy. This really isn't healthy. At least I'm myself enough to recognize that I'm being ridiculous.

Because I _am. _This isn't right. I shouldn't feel so… consumed.

I shift from form to form. In the end, I settle on his face. It's comforting somehow to be him. I run my hand over my own arm casually and look down. It isn't quite right. I'm missing some details.

I visualize him, and it's a perfect image. I recognize that much. I can see the hair on his neck, the shape of his eyebrows, the color of his fingernails, the light in his eyes, the sound of his voice.

I take on every shape of it. I make my essence change, carefully shifting it into the familiar form he has.

I smile as I change. It's perfect. I feel safe in this form, just as I do in his company. It settles my uneasiness, my discomfort.

I can see, now, that why I was so unhappy is because I'm worried. I don't trust lesser djinn like Affa and Penrenetut with his safety. They are decent fellows, but I'm a higher level, and they, like me, aren't under charges.

But I'm more bound to protect him than any command could make me.

I want to go home.

I should speak to him about it.

Finally, I hear his call, and of course I answer it. A bubble presents in the air.

His familiar face appears, and I quickly shift into a different form—anything but his face.

"Greetings, Rekhyt. I hear congratulations are in order. Word of your successes has reached the city."

I grin and bow my head, a respectful gesture I know he'd prefer to do without. "Is your cousin chuffed?"

**REVIEW!**


	22. Demon Wanderer

**REVIEW! lol, like taran wanderer anyone else read that? maybe i need to write another fic...  
**

The world is round. I mean, I knew that from the grapevine, objectively, but it was truly a wonder to soar around the globe, watching every inch behind me prepare to approach again.

I adore the sensation of speed and freedom, running but not running to or from something, no force behind my actions but my own whims.

I notice how few the humans are. Largely, the earth remains unspoiled by them. I can see huge patches, almost whole continents, where the only thing is woods and freedom and empty land and the occasional animal.

Where the humans do erupt, they are, for the most part, merely one with the landscape, a biped animal that hunts with tools but lives in harmony with others. There are few of my kind. As I drift over America, I notice none at all.

I see many fantastic creatures. In fact, I believe I snag a few new forms during my travels. One of them is a tall beast, rather like a cow, only with prouder horns, darker fur, and a shaggier hoof. The local word for it is unpronounceable in this language, with too many k's and t's and s's and not enough vowels to go around.

The tongues of the world are just as varied as the landscape is vast. Some speak in grunts still, some in full languages like the Egyptian ones, and some not at all. Well, not in ways I can understand, anyway. And I'm a djinni, I'm good with languages… and just about everything else.

Not to be vain.

I marvel at the sounds, and the emotions, from a distance. I crash a wedding. The young girl has a smile the size of the world and sparkling dark eyes.

I turn away, back into the sky. Four more days…

Incredible how little distraction the entire world can provide while I'm missing Ptolemy. Amazing how much I can miss Ptolemy. Fascinating how the universe pales beside what I need. Remarkable how short eternity before him seems compared to less than a week until I see him, now that I've found him.

I warn myself. You're gushing again, you idiot. Can't you save that until you're actually with him?

I douse myself in the sparkling clear waters of a mysterious river, and smile. As long as I don't think about the resemblance to his eyes, it's a fantastic sensation, clear and cool and wet, running over my skin. I smile and close my eyes, relaxing.

And then I'm off again, over the rooftops of a city, watching the people, smelling the stench of their sweat and the rotting food in the marketplace beneath.

I find I don't hate them, not universally. After all, these particular beings aren't magicians. Those who even have magicians walking among them are just as oppressed as I am.

Except I'm not oppressed right now. I'm gloriously, unbelievably, blessedly free, to do whatever I want whenever I want, nothing more complicated than that. I grin and fly back up, into the wild blue air, smelling cleanliness this time, and grass, and someone's clean clothes, and seeing nothing but blue and wind and life.

**REVIEW!**


	23. Demon Returned

**REVIEW!**

"Ptolemaius," I say, greeting him calmly and respectfully with a nod of my head.

"Rekhyt," with equal respect though less formality.

I take in a deep breath and then throw caution, dignity, and my hard-won bitterness to the winds, flinging myself at him. I wrap my arms around his torso, pulling him against me. I can hear his heart beat, and I feel my own body thrumming to the same rhythm.

His head rests against my shoulder. "I missed you, Ptolemy," I whisper into his ear. He shivers.

"I love you." He grabs both my forearms with his hands, pushing me a little way from him, looking into my face, his eyes bright. "Oh, Rekhyt. I love you so much. _So much._ My friend, I have missed you more… more than I can explain. I am so glad, to see you once again."

"Shut up," I suggest, "and kiss me."

He chuckles softly and does. His lips are just as I remembered, a little hesitant, but soft and gentle.

I yank him back towards me, no patience for this sort of thing.

Ptolemy slows, and then steps away from me, gasping for breath, after a while. Not a long enough while, in my opinion. "How were your travels?"

"Exquisite. Too long. I've seen so much, Ptolemy, that I'd like to show to you."

"Well, Rekhyt, I have something to show you, as well." He hesitates, and then smiles. "Surely you must be wondering why I required so much time?"

I shrug. "Guessed you needed a break from me or something."

He laughs aloud. "No. Nothing could be further from my intent. Allow me to explain, my dearest Rekhyt."

"You're fourteen and you talk like a book," I mutter. "I think you need a friend."

"I have one," he says, following my interruption onto a tangent. "A very good one."

"I'm not exactly good company."

"Oh? I certainly find you quite entertaining."

I pause. Ribald jokes from Ptolemy. Will wonders never cease? "I see I've finally made my mark on you, young one. Finally, you have developed a sense of humor."

He bows. "A development I owe entirely to your good sense. I am certain I would still speak like a dusty parchment if not for your presence."

"Yeah, now you just talk like a regular parchment. No dust for you."

"A marked improvement."

I laugh, and sit on the floor, cross-legged as usual. "What was that news you had for me?"

"A surprise, if you would. A gift. A gesture."

I nod. "Go on."

"I intend to make a sacrifice, to regress a great and generational wrong. And for this I have devised a most intricate and immense plan, drawing upon the ancients and innovation, to carry us into a new era of civilization."

Dramatically, I yawn. "Spit it out."

"I have created a gate. A magic, a method, a spell. It will open the portal into a new world, literally, and heal the oldest of wounds between our two kinds. Rekhyt, I have discovered how to travel to the Other Place."

**REVIEW**!


	24. Demon Instructed

**REVIEW!**

I gawk for a moment or two. As soon as I sort through my thoughts, I decide it's his newfound sense of humor acting up. Clearly, he isn't quite sure how to use it. I should give him lessons. "That's not really funny, you know," I say.

He shakes his head. "I'm not joking."

"No, once I call you on it you might as well admit you're not… what? You're not…"

"I'm serious," he says, his entire body reinforcing that grave manner with a slow shake of his head.

"You're bloody insane, is what you are," I grumble. "Build a bridge to the other place! You know that isn't _possible, _right?"

"Many would say it is not possible for a djinni to feel love. Or for human and djinn to coexist peacefully. Yet we do."

"I still think you're nuts," I mutter under my breath. He stands and turns toward me, sweeping an elegant bow.

"But my friend, I assure you, I am no such thing."

Excellent, and now I've triggered his penchant for the dramatic as well. I'm in for quite a show. "All right, man. Prove to me that you can get yourself to the Other Place, and I will eat my words." This may have happened once or twice in the past, but the specific times escape me, leading me to believe that perhaps I'm right and have never before been mistaken at all ever.

He smiles. "Let me show you."

The room is adorned with all his familiar books: hundreds of scrolls, thousands of candles with every smell from roses to juniper, hundreds of tiny mites and imps in jars, incense sticks and silver and iron and wards and magical items and orbs and crystals.

I notice his main pentacle, in the middle. He lies down in it, smiling.

"Well?" I ask. "This all?"

"Yes. I tried all kinds of complex enchantments, but nothing seemed _right. _And then I realized most spells are meant to keep things in, when I want to get out. So if I do this…" he scores a deliberate line across the edge, "I should be able to escape." He smiles. "For protection-" he grabs an ankh and waves it at me, "Think this is iron?"

"Yep. Stop waving it about," I grumble, cringing.

"Very well. Now, I'm going to dismiss you. When you hear your true name… if you wish to invite me into your place- and it is indeed your choice, Rekhyt- simply stay where you are. I will fix on you and use the location to pull myself over. Understand?"

Not really, but I didn't understand most of his magical jargon. I nod. "So…"

"If you are sick of the sight of me after all this time, Rekhyt, the answer is simple. Just do not answer the call."

I shake my head and grin. "Ptolemy, do you really have to ask?"

"No. I suppose not."

"I'll see you on the other side."

He laughs, and then closes his eyes. I feel the pull on my essence as he begins the dismissing spell.

**REVIEW!**


	25. Demon Met

**REVIEW!**

Ptolemaius. Ptolemaius. _Ptolemy. _Answer me! Where are you?

I call desperately into the ringing abyss. Nothing answers me, save the gathering sould of my kindred.

What do you seek, Bartimaeus? Who is here that you must find?

I ignore them.

Ptolemy!  
Rekhyt?  
His voice is so small. Yet he doesn't sound frightened, merely curious.

PTOLEMY!

I thunder. He drifts towards me.

Oh. There you are.

I catch sight of him and wince. His form is most unattractive, a spindly little fellow.

How... What is _that_?

Unless I'm quite mistaken, that is me.

Ooh…

I wince.

You're sort of icky.

Thank you.  
He sounds quite sarcastic. Perhaps the Other Place is having the same effect on him as it did on all of us.

Welcome.

So, I made it.

I nod.

Sure did.

Impressed?

He asks. I smile. And shake my head.

I've felled armies single-handedly. On more occasions than one. I simply don't do impressed.

He glowers at me. It's about the most complex move that ugly form he wears can handle.

I built a bridge to the Other Place, Rekhyt. That's all but the definition of impossible.

All right. Maybe I'm a little taken aback.

I shall simply count it as a mark of esteem that a creature of such prowess of yourself has so much confidence in me, then.

I smile and fake a frown.

You're insufferable.

The pot and the kettle, dearest Rekhyt. The pot and the kettle.

His form is slowly becoming better and better looking.

I'd be offended, but I'm too busy being pointedly unimpressed.

The thing almost resembles him now. It laughs, and I can hear the sound from all around me.

So, this is your home?

Yeah. I'd offer you tea, but we mostly only eat each other.

Charming.

He smiles widely and comes to where I "am". Sort of. He takes my arm, or as close as he can manage, and leans over me.

Let's talk.

All right.

**REVIEW!**


	26. Demon Beleaguared

**REVIEW!**

I flap one wing desperately, using my foot to propel me up the steps. An ornate door is ahead, though age has changed it. I push it over, throw us forward into the sanctuary. The air is cool and thick. There are no windows. I close the door and hear the clank of the _things _on the other side. True, they are my own kind, but they are… enemies. Ptolemy is my only ally here.

Can't think about that.

I put a Seal on the door and then send out a pale light to set the room aglow. I can hear the leathery flapping of the wings all around us.

I lay Ptolemy down gently. I bend my face to his, close, closer. His breathing blows warmth against my nose in a terrifyingly irregular pattern. His face is ravaged, aged, changed, and there is blood pooling around his simple but expensive clothes.

He tries to raise himself up on one arm, turning his colorless face even closer to mine.

"Steady," I caution. "Save your strength." He's spent it all already, on that damn doomed voyage to the Other Place. I shouldn't have let him linger so long. Should have known that just as I dwindle here, he'd be destroyed there… and he is not so strong. Not strong enough to waste from that journey and survive this arrow to the shoulder, that's for sure.

But I didn't live this long by defeatism. No, I'm not giving up hope. Not now, and not ever. But I wish, I wish more than anything that he'd been a little less selfless. If only he hadn't taken the sins of all the world on his shoulders, decided he had to rectify every wrong with his shining mind and his bare hands, he might have a better chance. And his damn curiosity. If only he hadn't demanded an introduction to every spirit in the Other Place, wanted to counsel with every spirit, investigated nature and being alike… we might make it through this.

No. We still may.

Not according to him, apparently. "I don't need to, Bartimaeus, not anymore."

I freeze at the sound of my true name. this is serious. But I don't listen to it.

"None of that talk. This is called tactics. We're having a rest. I'll break us out of here in a minute." Not strictly true, but I've lied before and it hasn't cost me anything.

He coughs. I try not to think about the vibrant, horrible red of the blood that comes up. "To be honest, I don't think I could take another of your flights."

Deathbed or not, never let it be said that Ptolemy's standard of conversation is low. "Come on, it'll be even more interesting with one wing." If there's one thing that will convince him, it's curiosity. I snicker a little at that, bitterly. Back to morbid humor, the only thing that's gotten me through this long. Gallows humor, more like. Another bitter laugh. "Think you could flap an arm?"

"No. What happened?"

**REVIEW!**


	27. Demon Fading

**REVIEW!**

I growl and shake my head. "It was this stupid mane! I didn't see that djinni coming from the side. He ambushed us, got me with a Detonation! This is the last time I wear one as bushy as this." Probably the last time I wear one at all, but I'm not going to think about that.

I hear the sound of our enemies closing in. I try to ignore it. He swears under his breath, but I doubt his human ears, especially further weakened from the journey, can detect the redoubled danger.

"What?"

"Back at the market," he sighs. "I dropped the parchment. My notes on the Other Place."

Damn his notes. Damn his research. Damn the Other Place, that's what's killing him!

I sigh, hearing the redoubled sound of claws and magicians' murmurings surround us.

"That's unfortunate, but it's not our main concern," I say.

"I've not finished my account. There's nothing left in my rooms but fragments."

I am further infuriated that it is _this _that puts the final note of despair deep in his voice. "Ptolemy, it doesn't matter."

"But it does! This was going to make things different. It was going to change the way magicians worked. It was going to end your slavery. It was the last thing I could give you, something that'll make all that living I'm forcing you into worth it."

I shake my head and look down at his frail, aging face. He's no less beautiful to me- he was right. Form matters not. "Let's be frank. My slavery—and my life—are going to end in, oh, approximately two minutes."

He shakes his head, as much as he can. "Not so, Bartimaeus." My true name, again.

"Yes so." A minute ago, I was the optimist in this crowd.

"I can't get out, but _you _can."

"With this wing? You must be—Ah, I see." I growl. "Not a chance."

"I'm technically your master, don't forget. I say you can go. I say you will go."

I stand, sprint to the center of the temple, and roar a great, terrible roar. The ferocious sound stills even my persistent enemies for a moment. Not long enough. "IN a few moments, they're going to break through, and when they do, they'll learn to fear the power of Bartimaeus of Uruk! Anyhow, who knows? I've taken out six djinn at once before now."

"And how many are out there" he replies automatically.

"Oh, about twenty."

"Right, that settles it." His arms shake as he tries to sit up. "Help me lean back against that wall. Come on, come on! Do you want me to die lying down?"

"Don't ask me. I'm not shifting," I whisper, though I do help him sit.

"Oh, I won't ask, Bartimaeus," he says, grinning.

One of his hands is raised.

"Don't," I beg.

He snaps his fingers and speaks the spell. Though I cling with all my might, roaring, begging, screaming, I can do nothing. I can barely cling to my ghostly form long enough to watch them run him through. My insubstantial arms do not save him.

He whispers, "I love you."

I watch him die. And then I am forced to fade.

**REVIEW!**


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